Dear Blogger-y,

The result of last night's semi-subconscious, desperate and [lets admit] pathetic move; was a lethal mix of frustration, embarrassment and self-loathing.
what baffles me the most however, is that the final product of this mix is not as lethal as one would predict...it's..I can't believe what I'm about to say but..comforting.

frustration + embarrassment + self-loathing = comfort
who would've known, huh?

I hope this equation holds until tomorrow morning. *fingers crossed*

With hands clasped in prayer..

Please please please please please please pleeease don't let me get sick...again!
The amount of sickness (carsickness included) I've suffered from in the past few months should last me till the end of the year..at least? please?

Besides, being sick is one thing, being sick AND lonely is a totally different thing!
my painkiller is no longer available.. it requires a prescription no one is ever going to write for me..

please? ...

قال

أحب اسمك -

 حقا؟ -

 أجل... -

قبضته مليئة بالنجوم

 

  "أريد أن أكتب اسمك في السماء"

يقولها و تضيء النجوم بتناغم مع ابتسامته المعدية

ابتسمت و رفعت رأسي ، فتلاقت أعيننا

في عينه نظرة حائرة

سألته: هل غيرت رأيك؟

لا.. -

ماذا اذا؟ -

 ما اسمك؟ .... -

 

Picture: TanssivaPanda from Deviantart

You'll never be there for me..

I woke up in yet another uncomfortable and painful yoga position. My back ached and my arms knotted in a painful twist. I don't know why the unconscious me is determined to twist in the weirdest angles while I'm sleeping. Does she hate me that much?

waking up with the stiffest neck every day is not fair. It effs up your already effed up day.
But lots of things in life aren't fair:
- The fact that almost all the shoes I like are never available in size 39, is not fair.
- The fact that loneliness and despair never tire of haunting me down every night right before going to sleep, is NOT fair.
- The fact that I only get monitored doses of a substance very similar to endophins but doesn't exactly have the same effect is, SOOO NOT fair!
- The fact that whatever hope I have during the day vanishes the minute my head hits the pillow is DEFINITELY not fair!
- And the most unfairest of them all is the fact that, the only time I have you with me is in my dreams..

Today was no exception..I woke up with a smile on my face, my eyes half closed, and I had no plans of opening them up any time soon. I was indulged in my post-dream daze, reliving every little euphoric detail of what happened in my dream over and over again, before this great/painful epiphany occurred to me. It was just another vivid dream! and I had woken up! and it was devastating!!
In rebellion against this awful truth, I shut my eyes tight, and quickly tried to remember every little detail of the dream I had, in hopes of...I don't really know in hopes of what..

Did I want to go back to the dream I was having? or was I hoping that ..if I tried hard enough it would become a reality? I don't know..all I know is that failed attempt after failed attempt, my frustration built up..and 10 minutes after failing (in whatever it is I was doing), I pressed my  face against the pillow and shouted at the top of my lungs. I was angry..so angry I could've killed somebody.

I would trade the rest of my life, if I could live in the dream I had last night..

Written Consolation

I'm sure that who's ever been keeping track of my recent entries (besides myself)  must've thought at one point "why is she publishing all of this if she's not directing it to a certain someone, why must she parade her sadness if she's not looking for sympathy?"

Well, this question has crossed my mind every time I checked my blog, every time I moderated a comment, and every time I published a new post. "Why are you doing this? If your purpose was truly to 'document' this sad period of your life, then why don't you keep a private journal? why does the world have to know that you're 'crushed beyond repair'?"

In all honesty? I don't know. I asked this question to myself so many times I've lost count, and I still fail to see the point of what I'm doing.
All I know is that writing comforts me. when I write, a faint light of hope ignites within me. and for a few hours, I live in momentarily peace. I think happy thoughts, something along the lines of  "you're fine, everything is gonna be alright. you know, a lot of people got bigger problems, yours is considered trivial in....Congo for example!"

But that peaceful feeling of strength soon wears off, and I'm back to square one.

If I could describe my shattered emotional state in one word at the moment, it would be Terrified.
I'm terrified of staying depressed, I'm frightened that I'll always be depressed, I'm scared that all the happiness that's been drained out of my life will never return, I'm worried I'll never move on, The thought of not being able to pull my life together is eating at my heart (or whatever is left of it).

This whole thing has literally drained my will to do anything. I'm still standing right where I was 35 days ago (I can't believe it's been that long, or that short)
sigh....

I've Dreamed of You So Much

I've dreamed of you so much that you're losing your reality.
Is it already too late for me to embrace your literal,
living and breathing physical body
and to kiss that mouth which is the birthplace
of that voice which is so dear to me?

I've dreamed of you so much that my arms--
which have become accustomed to
lying crossed upon my own chest
after attempting to encircle your shadow--
might not be able to unfold again
to embrace the contours of your literal form,
perhaps

So that coming face-to-face
with the actual incarnation of what has haunted me
and ruled me and dominated my life for so many days and years
Might very well turn me into a shadow.

Oh equilibriums of the emotional scales!

I've dreamed of you so much that
it might be too late for me to ever wake up again.
I sleep on my feet, body confronting all the usual phenomena
of life and love
and yet when it comes to you--
you, the only being on the planet who matters to me now--
I can no more touch your face and lips
than I can those of the next random passerby.

I've dreamed of you so much,
have walked and talked and slept so much
with your phantom presence
that perhaps the only thing left for me to do now
Is to become a phantom among phantoms,
a shadow a hundred times more shadowy
than that shifting shape which moves
and which will go on moving,
stepping lightly and happily
across the sundial of your life.

Robert Desnos

Crumbling on the inside,

They were on their way to Al-khuwair to pick up their younger sister from her private tutoring lesson when Noor suddenly said:
"You know, for someone who's been holding onto something for so long, you're pretty quick to let it go."

It's a habit of hers that Reem have always hated. blurting things out of the blue like that, and then sitting silently like she didn't just threw a bomb at her defenseless sister..
Reem turned and looked at her sister in disbelief at first, but then faced forward again, bottling up her annoyance with all her might, and determined to give her sister a dose of her own medicine.
she sat silently as well, pretending not to have heard what Noor has just falsely accused her of.

Blood was boiling inside her head, and her heart picked up pace. "let go? is she serious? I'm falling to pieces here! why does she think I stay up all night? That I get amazingly uncomfortable when she talks about her fiancé? or do I have to whine and bawl my eyes out in front of the whole world for her to recognize that my heart has been irreversibly broken?"

Her train of thoughts went on that track throughout the ride. When they finally reached their destination, Noor parked the car, and then turned her whole body to face her sister. she looked at her expectantly,
"well? what do you have to say?"

"say to what?" Reem coldly replied.



"to what I just said?!" she impatiently demanded.



"what did you just say?".



"Reem!! com'on! what I just said about you taking it kitha.. easy. the way you are."


"oh..well, I'm not actually."


"really? you seem very...umm..very.. together to me." 

"well, I'm not 'together'."



Noor was now staring at her younger sister who was fiddling with her iTouch, pretending to be reading something, in hopes of a quick change of subject.



"that's not healthy." Noor suddenly declared in the most Dr.Phil-ish tone.



"what isn't healthy?" Reem looked at her, trying not to let frustration get the best of her.



"bottling it up like that. why do you always pretend you're stronger than you really are? I've seen how attached you were. That kind of attachment is impossible to get over in just a matter of a few weeks. impossible to get over at all if you ask me."

failing to contain herself any longer, Reem cried: "what makes you think I'm over it?!! what makes you think I've let go? why do you think you have the right to analyze me like that? just because I don't crawl into mother's bed every night anymore, begging her to help me lift this heavy pain off my chest and help me breathe through my sobbing, does NOT make me over it! and it definitely does NOT make anything any better!"
Her eyes welled-up with tears as she struggled to breathe before continuing in a broken voice "you don't know what I've been through...you can never know what I'm still going through.."

She broke down. 

Noor stared at her broken sister, filled with guilt and shame. she didn't know that bringing up the subject could unleash all of this bottled up grief.

" I'm sorry..I never knew it was this bad.."
her shaking voice pierced through Reem, who sat quietly for what seemed like an eternity; staring at her lap; whilst tears dropped rhythmically one after the other on her trembling hands.

"it's not fair.." she finally whispered.

Noor reached out and pressed on her sister's hand. "I know..I know it isn't. how is he handling it?"

" I have no idea. He seems fine."

"are you still in contact?"

"no..but I secretly get doses of him, and he seems to be doing just fine. I sometimes wish he wasn't. and it makes me feel horrible for wishing him something evil."

she smiled. "how do you know he's really fine?"

Lifting her head up, she wiped her tears away before cracking a joke that was both painful and funny. Noor laughed warmly and then went on asking questions, cautiously trying not to mention anything that would make her sister burst into tears again.

Reem went on talking for a whole hour, happily reminiscing at some points, and choking up on her tears at others. but regardless of how painful it was, It made her feel better somehow. Noor was right. It wasn't healthy to grieve the way Reem was. She needed to let it all out. the only problem was that her grief seemed to be a bottomless pit. no matter how many tears she shed, there was always more. no matter how many things occupied her mind, there was always a small opening for this mourning to creep through.

They were all silent on the drive back home, right until they stopped at the traffic lights in Madinat Qaboos; when Noor suddenly decided she's do that hit-and-run thing Reem always hated again by quoting their aunt with a devious smile:
"الحب مرادف منطقي للجنون ؛ وحده هذا الجنون الجدير بالعيش حد الإدمان"

This time however, Reem only smiled and gave a little nod in agreement.

8 Stars, 11 Clouds

Days have been passing by in the most ridiculous manner lately. In slow flashes. So fast, yet painfully slow.
mending your broken life is not as easy as they make it seem in the movies.. the pieces of your broken life don't start falling into place right after.

Morning of October 3rd

 I was lying on my youngest sister's bed, blankly staring at the ceiling. The lights were off, and nothing but a few thin rays of light that managed to creep through the parting of the heavy curtains disturbed the comforting darkness.
It's been more than a week since I've abandoned my bed. I couldn't sleep in my bed. It didn't feel like my bed anymore. "maybe I need to buy a new bed set? and add pillows of all shapes and sizes..warm cozy colors.." I daydreamed.

I was still in the same clothes I was wearing yesterday, my gray comfy pants (that I've recently purchased and totally, whole-heartily adore) and an electric blue T-shirt (that I don't exactly like, but it's too comfortable and looks really nice against my fair skin),
when a sudden gust of cold AC air blew over me. I curled my toes in reflex -like i always do when a sudden rush of pain, pleasure, cold, happiness,..pretty much anything comes over me- and quickly pulled the duvet over my shivering body.

I grabbed my phone from under the pillow to set the alarm.  
7.15 am read the phone watch.
"I can't believe I'm still up! this is getting ridiculous.." I frustratingly thought.
My train of thoughts picked up from there leaving me indulged in thoughts I've desperately tried to dodge (like bullets) for the past 17 long hours or so.
Tears were now starting to form in my eyes. aghast by the weakness that started to break loose inside of me, I shook my head violently "you promised yourself!" a voice shouted inside my head.
I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath and started to recite comforting verses.

fifteen minutes later I had calmed down. and was now staring blankly at the ceiling again.

Determined to escape from all the agonizingly painful thoughts, and being the helplessly OCD-ish person I am, I started to count the glow in the dark plastic shapes that were stuck to the ceiling..
1..2...3..4..8.
8 stars.

1..2...3..4..5..6.....
11 clouds. and before I could finish counting the faintly glowing sheep, I drifted into a very much needed sleep.

Not long after, 

I was standing in a long never-ending hallway, absolutely gobsmacked.
I wasn't sure I heard him right. Did my father just say this man is gonna be my husband? The look on my face must've spelled out utter astonishment, because my father slowly repeated through his smile: "This is gonna be your husband."

The man standing next to my father was at least fifteen centimeters taller than him. I stole a quick glance at his shyly smiling face before looking back at my father who seemed to be delighted by the news he just told me. the smile on his face was very un-familiar, as I hardly ever see him smile.

I had to steal another (this time longer) glance at the man my father was very happy to announce as his future son-in-law. He had an olive skin that seemed to be soaking up all the sun's rays that were coming through the HUGE windows covering the walls. A neat yet itchy-looking stubble beard, and a pair of unbelievably black eyes. They were too black. amazingly black. I've never seen eyes this black in my life.

I didn't realize that my glance had turned into staring. I was staring at his face, cautiously moving my eyes from his eyes to his nose, mouth, chin, back again to his eyes. subconsciously studying every inch of his face, like i was trying to take in as much as possible.

And then I woke up.

10 Years Days Ago

Disclaimer: I'm not posting this entry for a certain person to read, nor am I seeking people's sympathy. It's an attempt (probably a failed one at that) to document a certain period of my life. One that i can always look back to whenever life decides to give me attitude, as a reminder that I've been through worse.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was disappointed when i woke up that afternoon. My prayers were clearly not answered as i was still alive.
I slipped my hand under my pillow and pulled my phone from underneath it. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the bright screen as it read:
4:11 pm
13/9/2009

No messages..

"It wasn't a dream.." I bitterly thought.

I was still feeling the same way I felt when I went to sleep that morning..ripped apart..
My chest felt so heavy I could hardly breathe..My body too weak to roll over and my throat extremely dry.

15 minutes later I managed to gather the little strength i had left, and made my way to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, I saw the reflection of an expressionless tired face with swollen eyes. The minute I looked at it's mournful eyes, the same feelings of last night rushed through me. The despair, the helplessness, the grief..
I suddenly felt like someone has pulled the ground from underneath me. It all happened so fast I had no time to hang onto anything that would help ease the fall.

I fell to the floor and started to sob as hard as i did before going to sleep. the pain was too much to bear. I tried to breathe, but the more air i took in the more painful it felt.
I was sobbing so hard there were times when I was completely out of breath my body had to resort to yawning. I yawned a few times throughout my sobbing as a desperate attempt to stay conscious.

I then tried to strip out of my clothes as fast as my weak body would allow me, and literally crawled to the shower. the minute the water hit my skin I started to feel better. the frequency of tears running down my face decreased, and the sobbing fainted into silent tears with occasional gasps.

Half an hour later, I was still sitting under the shower when I heard faint knocks on the door. I asked who it was, and the maid answered telling me that my mother was expecting me downstairs.
The thought of my mother made me suddenly stop crying. I got up, washed my face and slipped on my Jalabyia. not realizing at the time that i was dripping wet and that the Jalabyia was inside out.

As I was holding the bathroom door handle open, I remembered I had to pray first.

I was relieved not to find anyone in the room. I closed the door behind me and proceeded to pray. I wrapped myself in a Leeso (big traditional Omani scarf thingie), and laid down my sijaada (praying rug).
As soon as my feet touched the soft blue wool of the rug, a sense of overwhelming peace came over me. encouraged by it, I took a deep breath and started to pray. The longer I spent on the rug, the better I felt. I didn't realize i was sitting there for 40 minutes until my sister walked in the room wondering where I've been all this time. I forced a smile on and asked her about my mother's whereabouts. She told me that she's probably reading Qura'an in my grandmother's room downstairs.

The thoughts running through my head made walking down the stairs an unbelievably difficult chore. I wished I could run upstairs and lock myself back in the bathroom and never leave.

I stood in front of my grandmother's room for a minute, wondering whether i should tell her or not. I then decided to go in and not think about whats going to happen next, and gently held the handle of my grandmother's room open.

She looked at me from the corner of her eye for a couple of seconds before laying them back again on the shiny beige-colored pages of the holy book opened before her. I stood still at the entrance of the room as I impatiently waited for her to finish. The minute she was done I involuntarily threw myself in her arms.. holding on to her tightly..

she was surprised by my very unexpected dive at first, but then started to gently stroke my hair as she asked teasingly (like she always does when I hug her):

"aish il munasaba?" (what's the occasion?)

"mashai..I just miss you" (mashai: nothing)

I closed my eyes and thought of how much I missed her scent.
she kept on stroking my hair and back for a minute before asking,

"9allaiti?" (did you pray?)

"am.." I whispered.

"Nella?"

I paused for a few seconds, trying to suck in the tears that were quickly forming in my eyes, and shakingly whispered "am..?" (es..?). as yet another failed attempt of saying "na3am?" (yes?)

"aish feeh il qamar?" (what's wrong?)

"nothing..really. i just miss you."

She knew I was lying and I knew she didn't believe me. but she didn't insist.

She continued to stroke my hair for a couple of minutes before finally breaking the silence: "inzain taw bay2athen il ma'3reb 7abeebti. roo7i shoofi 5awatish wain 3ashan tenezlo tfe6ro. Allah yer'6a 3alaish." (go find your sisters, Maghrib (sunset) Athan is gonna be called out any minute now)

I took a final long whiff before I reluctantly let go of her. "inshallah" (okay)

قالها قيس

لقد ثبتتْ في القلبِ منك محبةٌ كما تثبتت في الراحتين الأصابعُ

ليس عدلاً

أحاول البوح فلا أستطيع. أقول كلاماً كثيراً بلا معنى - كما افعل معك دائماً.
لاافهم كلامك في معظم الأحيان و تتهمني أنت باللامبالاة..

الرحلة

بدأ طلال الرحلة القصيرة، يرافقه رجلٌ مسن وزوجته، لا يعرفهما. وما هي إلا لحظات حتى انضمّت إليهم سلمى، يرافقها طفل جميل مشاغب في عمر السنتين. كانت دهشة طلال كبيرة . فها هي سلمى أمامه بعد أن انقطعت اخبارها لثلاث سنوات. تمنّى ان ترفع رأسها فتراه، وتقول له أي شيء. فما تعود ان يرد لها طلباً، ولكنها منذ أن انضمت إليهم في الرحلة وهي تضع رأسها في الأرض، تراقب طفلها

قام طلال ببعض الحركات، وتنحنح أكثر من مرة لتنتبه إليه، ولكنها لم ترفع رأسها للحظة، فقرر أن يسألها ويعاتبها فور توقف الرحلة، ويبتعد عنه الرجل المسن وزوجته

لا شك في أنه سيجد مساحة للوقت والمكان ليسألها عن سبب الغياب

ومع تزايد وتسارع ضربات قلبه وارتباكه، وقف المصعد

خرج الطفل مسرعاً

صرخت عليه أمه: طلال حبيبي توقف

فتوقف طلال في مكانه في المصعد دون حركة

فما تعود أن يرد لها طلباً

كريم معتوق

Tagged!

by the fabulous, the magnificent, the one and only: Diablo!

- List down 5 things people probably didn't know about you.

ok, here goes:

1. I'm emotionally retarded.
2. when i was a kid, i broke one of my front teeth while playing football.
3. when i was in fourth grade, I had a completely random episode of amnesia that lasted for several hours.
4. I look a lot like my grandmother, who looks a lot like her grandmother..and there is a good chance one of my granddaughters is gonna look a lot like me.
5. I blow bubbles as a form of meditation.

Worn out

So I thought I’d slip in a lame update about what has been recently going on in my life.
I still can’t believe that we just started our mid-terms. we only have 2 weeks left before Eid holiday, which will leave us with just one week before finals.

Uh, who cares anyway? My underachieving self is not bothered..never will be.

ok that’s a lie. I haven’t been this anxious in my entire life! I never knew I could get this apprehensive! I just discovered a side of me that I’m seriously thinking of shooting..right between the eyes! There is always something stupid that keeps me up at night.. and even the couple of hours of sleep I get are not peaceful. I keep dreaming of missing deadlines, screwing up assignments, embarrassing myself in front of a class full of teenage girls. And if it’s not a very bad dream, I’d dream that I’ve overslept and missed an important exam, just to wake up and find that I’ve woken up way before the alarm has gone off.

I don’t know why am I panicking like this.. I’m usually never bothered. And it’s not like I’m doing badly in my studies, on the contrary; My grades are pretty good (if not excellent), and my past two evaluations weren’t bad at all. So what am I so freaked out about?

The stress is affecting me physically too, I’ve been sick for almost a month now. I keep relapsing.. it’s so bad that my mother is demanding at least one SMS per day..just to make sure I’m well enough to type.
I come online in my not-so-free time, just to satisfy my procrastination, and keep my mind off of things..or at least try to.
I can’t wait for November to end! I wanna go back home, and get some of my strength back for finals.

I’ve been sleep deprived for the past couple of months it’s just..so..very..tiring..

Ever since I was a kid, when I’m in desperate need of some peace, I usually get one my mother’s recently worn (lesos) scarves, and bury my face in it. her sweet comforting smell on it literally makes every muscle on my body relax, and an overwhelming sensation of peace overcomes me..a reassuring feeling that everything is going to be alright, and all I have to do is just close my eyes..
and I sleep..The wheels in my brain finally stop. no nightmares..no dreams..just a black void of peace.

I wish I had one right now.

Baby Alien (tu-free 4)

everybody, i made a new friend! (literally). his name is tu-free 4.

Nella the Photographer

i took those back in Summer in Qurum Natural Park. the weather was expectionally nice, so we decided to go somewhere..
i had a lot of fun that day. got soaked in fountain water, had delicious ice cream..and popcorn from a brown paper bag (is it me? or does popcorn taste much better when it's in a paper bag?)

a perfect summer day with my family.. i miss them.. =(

a vein-bursting question

Alone, where a a king sized bed once stood, laid a king sized mattress. "Very comfortable." I thought, as I positioned myself on the mattress, facing the wall. The mattress covered in soft clean white sheets; looked new and hardly ever used.

The door of the semi-deserted room swung open, and entered my cousin, who's holding a diet coke can in one hand, and a glass full of ice in the other "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I found this IPod station stuck between the wall and the mattress."

"Well, that's an odd storing place."

"It's not a storing place..it probably doesn't work."

"Well, I have my IPod, and you can plug it in right there..lets see if it was stored, or if it lost it's way to the bin and somehow ended up between a wall and a mattress in a room almost never used."

"Ok, Let's see.." I plugged it in, placed the IPod and it worked!

"What do you know.. It works!"

"That really is an odd place to store an IPod station.."

"Yeah..haha" I turned around, and asked "So? Who's the can and who's the glass?"

"Excuse me? I'm not sharing."

"Come on.."

Fine..You're the can."

So.. a comfortable mattress, music in the background, and coke. What else is missing?
Conversation! We went on talking about school, university applications, driving license, weddings, etc..etc..Until we came to the question that is the highlight -­or at least supposed to be the highlight- of this entry.

"So Nella? What's the best thing that's ever happened to you?"

I answered without putting much thought into it. It doesn't need much thought anyway, I already knew what's the best thing that has ever happened to me. "my mom."

She looked like she heard an answer to a totally different question; her facial expression was a mixture of shock and suspicion.
I was waiting for her to blurt out a "what?" but instead, she blurted out something I wasn't expecting at all.. a "why?"

Now I wasn't sure if I should feel offended by that question, `cause lets be honest here..It does seem a little offending if someone asked you why you consider your mother the best thing that has ever happened to you, specially if said with that tone.

Well I dunno, skipping the 9 months of pregnancy, the several hours of excruciating labor, the 2 years of some serious breast feeding, and all the things almost all mothers go through.
Maybe because she makes the best Bechamel? (Speaking of Bechamel, I noticed that everyone I know whose mother cooks bechamel says their mother's is the best. personally, I've had many mom-made bechamels throughout the years, and they were all good; they all had a special flavor. I guess it's that special flavor we consider the best, the nostalgic familiar flavor of home)

Maybe because she is the smartest woman I've ever known? The reasons are endless, and obviously biased!
The harder I tried to put them all in an answer -­an answer I felt was good enough to justify why I think she's the best thing that has ever happened to me- the faster they slipped away. I was boiling inside, not only because of my inability to properly answer the damn question, but because of the damn question itself. "why?"

For a moment there, a semi-bald, short, fat Italian guy in his mid-forties, appeared in my head and furiously asked "what the **** is wrong with my Ma Huh? FIGLIO DI MIGNOTTA! VAFFANCULO! CAFONE!" (Translation: You son of a *****! go **** yourself! ***hole!)

Anyhow, this whole thing makes me think, is it because we take mothers for granted that it seems weird to think of them as the best thing that has ever happened to us? "You know..Mothers are supposed to be there for us, they don't happen!" Or is it because of how she sees her own mother?

Well, to cut it short, being the easily led to self-doubt person I am, I started wondering, Does it have to be something else? I tried rephrasing that question in my head so many times, I tried looking at it from different angles, but I kept getting the same answer; My mother.

Finally, I answered. "Well, because, she is the best thing that has ever happened to me!" I couldn't have answered any other way. And to avoid any other vein-bursting questions, I fired back the same question "what's the best thing that has ever happened to you?"

But before she could answer, the door opened and a voice called "Nella? Yallah 7abeebi, We're going home.. it's late."
I was a little disappointed I didn't get the chance to give her a taste of her own medicine, but I had to go, the best thing that has ever happened to me was waiting for me by the door. And as soon as I saw her smiling face, I thought: maybe it's because she just stopped me from offending someone who probably didn't even mean to offend me? Well, I guess it's safe to say that, my mother was the best thing that happened to my cousin that night.

Nella Says: Frogs are perverted? *

How do you miss a voice you’ve never heard before? A face you’ve never seen before? Or a conversation you never really had? Even though it feels like you have at least a million times.
You know, nothing gets my thoughts going better than being cut off from everyone.. (Well, almost..)
Loneliness and anxiety is what I call enemies with benefits. Along the many visits they seem to be frequently making lately..I noticed my brain activity increase. with all these thoughts, and ideas running in my head. I’ve also noticed that I use my brain much more when I’m in a desperate need for ‘vitamin P’.
Wait.. Does that mean that when I’m deliriously happy, my I.Q drops? Hmm.. ’cause if it does, it explains a lot!

It’s probably because I become so emotionally worn out to the point that my heart announces it’s time he takes a vacation from all the crap I keep getting him into. Leaving all the work to my brain for a few days.. (or weeks, depends) which isn’t bad at all really. I actually like the only-brains Nella better to be honest.

Oh yeah..Almost forgot!
Ramadhan Kareem everyone! =D

Not that anyone reads this blog anymore, But I just can’t give up on this place..Not yet anyway.
A few years ago, I came to realize that I love talking to myself..guess it’s ‘cause I’m a very good listener (funny I said that..My family still believes that I’m not much a daydreamer as much as I’m partly deaf. they even had me go through an ear surgery back when I was a kid, just to make sure I’m not really partly deaf, which was obviously unsuccessful?) Besides, who understands you better than yourself? I usually turn to myself when the road gets a little bumpy.. and writing instead of talking to myself out loud (even though I do that sometimes too) seems like the more sane way of holding a somehow interesting (or maybe not) conversation between me, myself and I.

Anyhow, speaking of Ramadhan, This is probably the first Ramadhan I felt very very unready for. It came so suddenly this year..like the year skipped a few months thinking it’s time we have Ramadhan visit us again. a holy visit I’ve always looked forward to, with the exception of this one time. Because for the first time in my life; I’m spending it all alone. I really wish no one welcomes Ramadhan alone. specially if you don’t know how to warp a samboosa (even though you’ve genuinely tried at least a thousand times throughout the years, till you’ve ruined half of the wraps and your mom decides it’s time you stir the soup instead) It’s not a nice feeling, but if you ever had to..Well, you’ll live.

It comes fast and leaves just as fast. I can’t believe we’re moving on to Day 13 in a another umm..16 hours? Now I know it’s a little early to talk about this, but, doesn’t it feel weird when you wake up on Eid.. and someone downstairs calls you for breakfast? The Idea of having breakfast seems so strange! (but you get over it real quick once you have a glass of water). I think I’ve said it every Eid so far haha “Hey! Guess what! We can drink water! In the MORNING!” One of the many stupid things I refuse to stop saying (or doing) on Eid. Stupid things I can now proudly announce are officially on the ‘are you worthy of becoming an Eid Ritual?’ waiting list, In hope of becoming the new nice little Eid ritual. Alongside Oud, Insomnia, stealing Chocolate (even though we can just go and get some from the living room now, but it’s not as fun as getting it from the men’s side..mission impossible style lol) and the ‘lets-go-check out- the-guys-from-the-second-floor’s-window-as-they-bring-out-the-Shuwa’ gaze haha!

At any rate, I’ve talked about Eid a million times in here..and as tempting as it is for me to give the famous “Nella’s Eid Speech” ( I’m already half way through it anyway..i think) it would be unfair of me to make you go through the damn thing every single Eid.. I’m not that mean. =)

moving on..

A few days ago, I was fortunate -or perhaps unfortunate- to find out (to my utter astonishment) that some people are stupid enough to not realize that actions have consequences. It’s beyond their comprehension to understand That you can’t clip a bird’s wings, lock it up in a cage all it’s life, and then one day, decide to open the window for it, assuming it’ll fly like any other bird who’s been soaring the skies for years.
Likewise, You can’t raise a child unexposed to life, inexperienced, and completely dependent on you. Clipping his wings by constantly telling him he’s a good for nothing nobody, and then one day, take off the leash, and expect him to lead a normal independent successful life, like the rest of the normal folks out there. For god’s sake! Even the lucky ones (who’ll somehow manage to come out of this with a little bit of confidence intact) won’t lead a normal life.. at least not immediately!

And I know this has nothing to do with anything, but I hate infatuation... (I like the sound of the word though) I hate it’s guts! Not only do I immerse myself into the person I’m infatuated with.. But I somehow start to sound like them..Be interested in what they’re interested in, etc, etc.. (Unconsciously of course). And it freaks -the hell- outta me! Every time! I often find myself wondering: “Am I going to suffer from this syndrome for the rest of my life?”
They should have pills for infatuation! It’s dangerous! Some people lose their identities! And I can’t really imagine something worse than losing the person you are and becoming a not very well copied copy of somebody else. (note: a little exaggeration might've occured in this paragraph)

Not like it’s incurable or anything..I mean, I survived them all. I eventually get myself out of it, but by then it would’ve consumed me to the point that I can’t return to the Nella I was before.

It’s Evil! It’s evil with a little tiny halo floating somewhere above it’s head. Because when you become so infatuated with someone, so infatuated to the point that you start to sound like them, look at things through their eyes, and share their views and interests.. You learn new things. It comes with the territory I guess. You submerge into this person, and their interests become your new interests, and you learn..

If he is into cars, you become a car expert. If he is into books, you become a bookworm (major bookworm f you were already a bookworm, like myself). If he is into Movies, you become a movie fanatic. And if he is into Nail Polish and all things pretty….well, you move on faster than you thought you would.

I’m not sure if it’s to impress them, or if it’s psychological.. But I know that every time I’m infatuated, i hear a voice in my head saying: oh girl, you’re in deep shit!

And one more thing, I don’t think that recalling silly jokes or hilarious incidents, or even looking through your memory archive for that tape you had recorded of your sister falling on her bum in public and playing it in slow motion is sad! If it makes you laugh just as much as you laughed before, then you go ahead and reminisce! Even if you happen to be in a waiting hall full of people, and suddenly start laughing hysterically. Note: from personal experience, once you realize you’re actually laughing like an idiot in front of all these people..You’ll most probably find yourself unable to stop laughing (which is also good to recall and crack up on in some other waiting hall haha..I hate waiting halls/rooms. Specially when you don’t have anyone to kill time with, and they’re no decent magazines to read.)

Out of Nella’s Book of “Kitchen Adventures/Disasters”

My parents and my older sister had to go away for a day while I was home ‘super-vacationing’. and being the second person in charge (and the superb Chef I am).. I took the liberty of making dinner.. and came up with a “white sauce and cheese pasta with a pinch of turmeric” recipe. But after everyone (including my grandma, who qualifies as the pickiest person alive) had (with the help of divine powers) ate, I had to change the name of the recipe to “turmeric with a pinch of white sauce and cheese pasta”.

You see, I accidentally poured half of the turmeric jar into the white sauce. You can imagine how yellow and turmeric-y it became. I honestly believe that I made the yellowiest, turmeric-iest dish in culinary history. Thank god my parents came back with a lot of Pizza leftover that night.. (I also think that was with the help of divine powers)

Word of the week.. “Viet-fuckin’-nam!”

Guess this entry makes up for the almost 3 months long time in which I didn’t blog, lol!
Is it obvious (from the length) that I miss blogging? ‘Cause if it isn’t..I really do miss blogging. =)

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* I recently heard an Omani joke about a perverted frog. I would’ve told you the joke, but it’s really really nasty. Well, the joke is basically about a smartass frog who wants the lion to bring him bitches lol (the longer ‘Omani’ version is a lot funnier I promise you).
Anyhow, I found myself thinking about the fairytale frogs, and when you think about it, frogs really are perverted. From the frog who was drooling all over Thumbelina, to the ‘prince’ frog who had to be kissed to transform. Kissed? Seriously..

A True Story - Part 3

i'd like to apologize for the inexcusable delay..most of you have probably given up on me, and i wouldn't blame you. not only was i very busy, but i was also impeded by my uncertainty of how to end this. being the last part of my very first story.. i sure took my sweet time.

1994 April 5th

it's the Birthday of her Brother's daughters. Lubna had just turned four, and Arwa was already three. Omar decided to hold the Birthday Party at Hardee's. it was the trend to have birthday parties at Fast food restaurants back then.

Layla was getting her girls ready for the Party. she was helping Reem put on her new white dress with the purple floral prints. Reem wasn't sure she wants to go..
"Mama, do i have to? i don't like parties.."
"Yes honey you have to. you'll have lots of fun, they have games, loads of Burgers, and two huge birthday cakes!"
"but i've been feeling sick all day..i don't feel like eating anything.."
"yeah right! once you smell the food, you'll be the first to eat!" Noor said as she was putting on her new pants.
"no i won't!" shouted Reem ..she turned to her mother with a worried look. "Mama? you're coming too, right?"
"yes honey, of course i am." she planted a gentle kiss on her daughter's nose. smiling in relief, Reem went to check her hair in the mirror.
she was now trying to tie her hair up in a pony tail. ever since Noor had managed to tie her hair all on her own, she's been trying really hard to do the same. Layla smiled as she watched her try over and over again.
"you'll never get it right, your hands are too short" Noor was doing a perfect job making Reem think her hands are shorter than they already are.
"Noor! would you do us the honor and zip it?" Layla said angrily
..come here sweetie, you need to look your best today, i'll tie your hair today, and we can both sit and practice tomorrow, alright?"
"..alright." Reem smiled, her arms were getting sore from holding them up anyway.
as the girls were running down the stairs she checked her watch "we're going to be late, where is that little Devil? Dana!!"
a shout came from downstairs. "yeaaaas?"
"come up here this second!" Layla shouted back.
Dana was mumbling and laughing with her sisters as she was running up the stairs, when she saw her mother's frowning face, she froze.
"i'm.. i'm sorry! the show was about to end i swear, but then they had commercials on and.."
"okay okay, come!" Layla sighed in impatience.
Dana ran to the room and saw a dress on her bed. she turned to her mother in disbelief. "but mama! i can't wear a dress! Abduallah is coming to the party. he's gonna laugh at me if he saw me in a dress!"
"but we don't have anything else ready."
"okay then, i'm not going.."
"what? get into that dress right now!"
Dana was on the verge of crying when her mother let out a sigh. "if i'm going to go crazy, it's all your fault.. okay, grab the new blue trousers and the shirt that goes along with them."
"thank you!" she jumped on her mother. "it's in the lower drawer. hurry up now, or i'm going to change my mind."

"oh well, looks like we're going to arrive late again..just when i thought today was going to be the day." Layla thought.

2 hours later

Layla was sitting at one of the tables, having a laugh with her sister-in-law when Fatma walked in with her little girls all holding on to her Abaya..
"Abla! (teacher)" she yelled to Fatma. "you look tired!"
"of course i'm gonna be tired! i'm pregnant again!"
she said as she was looking at Omar's wife "wallah if it wasn't for Muna i wouldn't have attended."
Muna said through her famous chuckle "thank you! we don't have parties like this all the time you know. your girls are going to have so much fun with the kids! i knew it was a good idea to have Omar hold the party here.
Bragging about almost every little thing she has, was something Muna has always found complete joy in.

Fatma was now reciting a funny incident that happened to her at school. Layla has already heard this one on the phone before, so she turned to check on the kids. Dana and Abduallah were standing on one of the tables and trying to reach a big blue balloon that was stuck to the ceiling. "Dana! get down this second!" Dana jumped up in startle. Abduallah jumped off the table and ran to the other side of the hall. Layla was fuming as she was getting her daughter down. "if i saw you doing anything like that again, i'll take you home right away!"
Dana seemed like she wasn't even listening. "mama, you're tall enough. if you got on this chair you'll be able to reach it."
"that's it! i'm taking you home right now!"
"no no! i don't want the balloon anymore. really!"

as she was returning to her seat, her eyes met a familiar face. a short Colombian Lady walked into the Hall. she was in her mid forties. blonde short hair, a little chubby. she was holding the hand of a little two year old girl in a pink dress who looked just like her mother.

she never knew what is it he saw in her, he stayed unmarried for so long, and then came back home one day married to this old average looking hag.
Muna called the lady to come sit with them. Layla forced a smile as she greeted her. "Hello..yes i'm fine, thank you."
talking to her has always made Layla feel uncomfortable. to avoid the conversation, she took Rana in her arms and went to sit in the table next to them.
she cradled Rana's face in her hands, and looked at her with adoration. for some reason, knowing she was his daughter, she adored the girl to bits. Rana was now trying to pull off the beads on her dress. "no no, cariño."


2006 - August.

It was past midnight. Layla was driving back home from her parents. "Mama? can we have Rana sleep over at our place? she said she wants to tag along with Ruqaya next weekend." Dana said.

"i don't think it's a good idea honey."
"Why?"
"your father doesn't like her father. i'm not sure he's going to be comfortable having his daughter at our place."
Reem who was 20 years old by then said: " i just saw her father two weeks ago. he's handsome! how old is he, mama?"
"a couple of years older than i am i guess."
"really? so he's about the same age as dad, he looks so much younger! i heard he's the head of this huge company. i wish i could find a man like him" Reem sighed.
Layla smiled as she took the turn to the left.

ever since Yahya found out that Layla and Ahmed once had feelings for each other, he started avoiding Ahmed and told her not to have anything to do with his family. how did he found out she never knew, but she never confirmed his doubts.
she agreed to whatever it is he said regarding Ahmed. there is no point arguing about something that had died more than 20 years ago, she thought.

"why doesn't he like him mama?" Dana asked.
"you know your father 3ad Dana.."
"but what are we going to tell her next week?"
"how about you all sleep over at your uncle's instead?"
"But!"
Layla gave Dana 'the look' over the rear-view mirror.
"fine.." Dana sighed. her brows met in anger and confusion.
" if you keep doing that you're forehead is going to be covered with wrinkles by the time you're 20." Layla said jokingly. everyone chuckled except for Dana, who's got more upset her brows got even closer.

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open ending! =D
lol, not really..i know that open endings are almost always unsatisfying. but this is a true story, and so far, it's pending.
disappointed? my apologies.
and who knows what the future holds? :p if there was any developments in the future, i'd be more than glad to share.

note: all names mentioned in this story are fictitious.

A True Story - Part 2

1983 - First of May

"Ahmed! when did you get back man?" Yahya greeted his best friend with a big smile and a hug.
"a couple of days ago. i heard about your father..i'm really sorry. how is he?"
"thanks, he's doing a lot better now."
"Alhamdillah..guess i've been away for quite some time."
"2 years is sure a long time..so you're back for good, huh?"
"yeah! ..i've had enough of the UK. five loooong years..i'm definitely done. what about you? how's work?"
"going great. i just got promoted. about time if you ask me. i've been working there for over 12 freakin' years!"
"haha, congratulations! you deserve it."
"thanks..how's Omar doing by the way?"
"oh, pretty good for a freshman, he's been to the UK for the past three summers, he's used to it by now."
"yeah. good luck to him. so? you're not going anywhere anytime soon right?"
"nope."
"great! means you'll be coming to my wedding."
"wedding? mashallah! bu ya3qoob! mabrook!"
righ then, the thought of Layla crossed his mind..it's been a few months since they've had that fight and stopped talking to each other.
her family is pressuring her with the many proposals she's getting and every time she asks him if he's going to do something about it, he'd repeat the exact same answer "i need to start working and make my own money first.."
"i can't wait any longer. my mother is already having doubts every time i turn down a guy..and this time she's asking me to choose between two of them..and she's not taking no for an answer!"
Layla..i love you..i'm just not ready.."

he knew he's disappointed her, she wanted something solid and he couldn't give her that..not yet anyway, he wanted to be an accomplished man..someone who can provide her the same lifestyle she has.

"Ahmed?" Yahya was wondering where did his friend's mind wandered.
"i'm sorry..i'm really happy for you man..so? who are you marrying?"
"She's a Beauty! Nasser's daughter..Layla."


1983 - 4th of May

she 's been up all night, the wheels in her brain were going round and round, she felt her head about to explode!
what is it he wants now? it's been five months since she last heard from him, it was about time she moves on..

she walked to the kitchen, desperate for a cup of tea.
a few minutes later, Fatma walked in holding the little red recorder her mother gave her. although Layla wasn't really interested in Music, but she's somehow memorized a few songs her friend was playing non-stop. Fatma was a huge fan of Abu Baker Salim, but never got the lyrics right. every time she'd sing along, she'd be singing completely different words..Layla always giggled as she heard her sing in the next room.
"i want you to listen to this, you'll love it! it's just the perfect wedding song!"
ever since Layla told her about the engagement, Fatma had placed herself in charge of the wedding, and thrown herself all over the wedding plans and preparations.
"it's not until December Fatma."
"i know! but you don't want to be 'panicking' when it's too late for you to find a proper song!"
she pressed Play, and a traditional Omani wedding song came out of the little old thing.
"isn't this played in every single wedding we've been to?"
"NO! just the best weddings..what do you think? perfect right?"
Layla forced a smile of approval as she was adding sugar to her tea.

Fatma paused the song and sat silent for a minute.. "you're calling him back aren't you?"
"i...i don't know..i need to know what is it he wants."
"suit yourself..he's not bringing anything better to the table. sure, he's a looker, an engineer, and comes from a good family. but he didn't have enough guts to propose!
..she paused for a minute, grabbed a cup and poured herself some of the tea Layla has made.
then went on "Yahya is a charming man, he's just as good looking. okay, maybe life was a little rough on him, and he had to work at the age of 12. but look at him now! a permanent decent job, good salary, and he's graduating from uni in a couple of years. not to mention the sweetheart mother he has! he's got the kindest mother! you're going to have the best mother-in-law!"
"i know...but"
she took Layla's hand in hers as she said: "Layla..you're more than a sister to me, you know that. i just want you to be happy."

layla smiled. as cliché as that might have sounded, she knew Fatma was being sincere. they've known each other for as long as she can remember.

she tightened her grip on Fatma's hand. "thank you."

Later that afternoon

the phone rang. Layla had what would Fatma call 'the panic look' on her face. for a second, she wished if Fatma was home to pick up the phone instead. but she went out to finish gift-shopping. after all, their plane takes off tomorrow night.

her heart was racing, and her hands were shaking as she picked up the phone.
the deep voice that has always got the butterflies fluttering in her stomach came from the other side: "Hello?"
she stood there for a few seconds..trembling.
"Hello? Layla?"
"...yes, Hello"
the were both silent for what seemed like eternity. holding her tears in..she felt as if she was suffocating. Finally he managed to speak another word.
"why?"
"...you never came.." once again they both fell into silence..

"he's my best friend.."